


Hey Dad

by shadowsamurai



Category: Waking the Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-01
Updated: 2012-07-01
Packaged: 2017-11-08 23:26:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsamurai/pseuds/shadowsamurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke sends a difficult letter to his father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey Dad

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Season 7, Episodes 5 & 6, 'Duty & Honour, Parts 1 & 2'. An alternate idea for the scene where Boyd receives a napkin from Luke with a date and time on it for a meeting.  
> Lyrics used are from the Good Charlotte song 'Emotionless' and are like \this/ . The letter, my own words, is like *this*.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm just borrowing things for a while and I promise I'll put everything back exactly how I found it when I've finished. Well, almost exactly how I found it. ;)

 

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

Boyd sat at his desk and turned the envelope over and over in his hands. He didn't recognise the handwriting, but it didn't feel like it contained anything dangerous. Slowly he opened it, and took out a single sheet of paper.

The first thing Boyd saw was the crude drawing of two people playing football. On closer inspection, he realised they were father and son, with the father watching as the son played.

"Luke," Boyd whispered, and he turned the paper over to read the accompanying letter.

\Hey Dad  
Writing to you  
Not to tell you that I still hate you  
Just to ask you how you feel  
And we fell apart, how this fell apart/

*Don't worry, I do still hate you, but that doesn't mean I don't think about you. That I don't wonder how you're doing. You're still my dad, after all. Nothing will change that.*

\Are you happy out there in this great wide world?/

*Is your job still the most important thing in your life? Or do you have someone new, someone who can actually put up with you? Don't worry, Mum's not completely blameless; she never tried to find me either.*

\When you lay your head down  
How do you sleep at night?/

*Do you even think about me, like ever? Do you wonder if I'm alright, or if I'm still alive? You've been trying to find me, so I guess that's a yes to all those questions. But why now, Dad? After so long, why look so hard for me now? You don't have a place in my life any more, just like I wouldn't fit into yours.*

\It's been a long hard road without you by my side  
I remember the days you were a hero in my eyes  
But those are just a long lost memory of mine  
I spent so many years learning how to survive  
Now I'm writing just to let you know I'm still alive/

*I want to know why you weren't there for me all those nights I cried, before and after I left home. I want to know why your job was more important than your family; I think I deserve an answer, don't you? I know I won't get one, though. You were never one for explaining yourself; for talking. I want you to know that it's not okay, but I'll get over it, just like everything else. I want you to know my life hasn't been easy, though you'll probably tell me I deserve it, that it was my choice to leave. Wasn't really much of a choice, believe me.*

\The days I spent so cold, so hungry  
Were full of hate, I was so angry  
There's things I'll take to my grave  
But I'm okay/

*So what's left for me to say? I don't really want to see you, not yet anyway. I'm not promising I ever will want to see you, but…well….*

\Sometimes I forgive  
Yeah, and this time I'll admit  
That I miss you  
Said I miss you/

*It doesn't change anything, though. The past is still there and it can't be changed or forgotten. Believe me, I've tried. And I've tried to forget you, but I can't. It's like you're always there, in my head somewhere, haunting me, shouting at me. Having me locked up. No, there's too much that's happened to just try and start over.

I would say stop trying to find me, but you wouldn't listen. You never do.

Luke*

Boyd continued to stare at the paper even when the words had blurred because of the tears welling in his eyes. He stared until he started to sob, and then the letter floated to the desk, graceful as a butterfly but with a sting like a horde of bees.

As Boyd held his head in his hands, he realised he couldn't have been more wrong. The envelope had indeed contained something dangerous, perhaps the most treacherous things of all: words.

FIN


End file.
